Laugh and Play eBook

The flower-pot on the window-sill which the third
dandelion-child had made her home was taken inside
one day, just when her flowers were ready to open.

[Illustration:]

“I must throw away this nasty weed,” said
a voice, “before I plant my seeds.”
Then some little round, black, ugly seeds were laid
down carefully, while the dandelion was rooted up
and flung away into a back yard down below.

This is a sad story, you see, but it is perfectly
true.

The others who had skipped about the meadows grew
among long grass now, which nearly choked them, and
completely hid them from the sun. And when June
came and the hay was cut, they too were cut and crushed
before they had had any flowers at all.

But away in a corner, by a hedge—­hidden
from all eyes and sheltered from cold winds—­the
dandelion-child who had not wanted to go into the
world grew stronger and more beautiful every day.
She knew nothing about fine gardens or admiring eyes—­and
she cared nothing. All she knew was that the
sun looked down on her with all his brightness, and
that the great blue sky into which she was always gazing
was wide enough and fair enough for her.

E.D.

Conceit Bowled Out!

[Illustration:]

He was a clever cricketer,
And very proud
of that;
Conceitedly one afternoon
He took his cricket
bat.
But when he at the wicket
saw
His sister with
her curls,
He turned his nose up so,
and said:
“I never
play with girls!

“They’re molly-coddles
all,” he cried;
“They always
spoil a match;
They cannot field or bowl
a bit—­
They cannot even
catch!
However, just this once I’ll
play!”
O, pride had such
a fall:
You should have heard them
shout—­a girl
Had bowled him out first ball!

C.B.

Laugh at It!

When you hear the merry rain
Patter at the window-pane,
Think ’twill soon be
fine again;
So
laugh at it!

If you chance to tumble down,
Though you bump your little
crown,
Never cry or pout or frown,
Just
laugh at it!

When the sum is hard to do,
Rub it out and try anew;
When you get the answer true
You’ll
laugh at it!

C.B.

[Illustration:]

The Dancing Academy

This is the way, on a rainy
day,
We teach our dolls
to dance—­
The doll in blue, and the
Scotchman true,
And Lady Belle
from France.
It’s heel and toe and
it’s to and fro,
They all can do
it well;
But the best of all our pupils
small
Is darling Lady
Belle!